


Bloodstained Heart

by jishcreator



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, Anxiety, Caretaking, Comfort, Comforting, Consoling, Cute, Healing, Intense, James Bond - PTSD, James Bond/Q - Freeform, M/M, Panic Attack, Post-Skyfall, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Love - Freeform, Q/James Bond - Freeform, Sweet, anxiety attack, deep, intimate, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4962898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jishcreator/pseuds/jishcreator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I gave this Trigger Warnings for PTSD/Panic/Anxiety because James has a panic attack from PTSD and doesn't realize what's happening. It is a bit intense but please don't let that defer you from trying it out. It's a very sweet consoling/healing fic. This might be the first chapter. I've never written a multi-chapter fanfiction, but this one might be it!</p>
<p>I hope you enjoy!</p>
<p>--"007, you’re having a panic attack. That’s all. Your body is fine. No, don’t look away, look at me.” Bond was reluctant but blinked hard, tears fell that looked like water melting from his icy eyes, and he looked back at Q. He shook his head, roughly, his body shaking.--</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodstained Heart

Bond was laying in his bed, in his own apartment, for once. His body was sore, and he had more than a few cuts and bruises, as usual. The city lights danced outside his large, beautiful windows. He let his body relax and closed his eyes, muting the world. This was a very rare occurrence and he was actually a bit excited for it. He let his thoughts wander to pointless things, of flora, fauna, and folly he had seen that day while shopping for groceries for the first time in months and then he sat straight up, panting. He clutched his chest and looked around. His hand immediately found his gun under his pillow. He knew this feeling -- something was here. He needed to keep alert. He’d been in danger more than any soldier you could bump into on the street. He had been through more than most people could imagine. He wanted to get up and check his surroundings but his legs wouldn’t move. His heart was pounding and a cold sweat broke in. 

“What’s happening?” He blurted out in the utter silence of his room. His first guess was poison. He thought over every single thing he had done that day but his mind was groggy. He didn’t know who he could call but he grabbed his phone anyway, his hands shaking so badly he couldn’t unlock the wobbling touch screen. He felt a strange certainty well up in his stomach that he’d only felt a couple of times throughout his life, throughout his career: that he was about to die. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t know why, but it just seemed fitting, didn’t it? In the safety of his own apartment. Not just fitting, but logical -- it’s where he would find someone. 

The room started to spin and just as he was realizing he had a disgustingly small montage of life to watch flash before his eyes he heard a knock on his front door. 

“007?” Came a soft, almost monotone voice.

He was so surprised, he responded out loud, knowing good and well there was no chance he could hear him from there. 

“Q?”

Q stood at Bond’s door and fiddled with his feet and assortment of bags and briefcases. He set his things down and knocked again before ringing the doorbell. There was a small screen above the ringer that he knew was there for communication. He chuckled a little and muttered to himself about it being outdated. He began to get worried. 007 wasn’t the type of person to take this long getting to the door, especially when no one, even Bond himself, was ever at this residence. He got on his knees and took one of his laptops out, checking Bond’s location. (He had inserted a chip no one knew about a few cases back. He was tired of losing him at the most inopportune times. Privacy, who cares about privacy?) He was inside, but he heard no movement, no voices. It felt like someone was stabbing him slowly all over his body in small but precise increments the longer he stood there. It was less than three minutes before he was yelling that he was coming in, and to not shoot him.

He got the door open and looked around hesitantly before hauling his stuff in and closing the door. 

“If he’s in the shower, I am going to kill him.”

He quietly tried to find him and when he did, he ran towards him. Bond was on his back on his bed, wearing nothing but pajama pants. His body was covered in sweat and he was staring at the ceiling without blinking; one hand holding his gun and the other his phone. 

“007!” He whispered, as close to a yell, as possible and collapsed on his knees by Bond. He immediately took his vitals before running out to get one of his cases, quickly getting a blood sample and analyzing it. As far as he could tell, he was normal. He set his hands on the frozen agent and tried to get him to respond. Bond wouldn’t budge, his eyes were active but not attentive. Q had no idea what was happening until those piercing blue eyes finally glanced towards him and a rasping, weak, terrified syllable slipped from Bond’s lips.

“Q…”

Q knew what was happening and shed his coat, his jacket, his sweater, his tie, and finally his shirt until he was down to his skin and he nudged the gun and the phone out of Bond’s limp hands before wrapping his small body as completely around Bond’s as his could. He grabbed his face with both hands and made him look him in the eyes.

“007, you’re having a panic attack. That’s all. Your body is fine. No, don’t look away, look at me.” Bond was reluctant but blinked hard, tears fell that looked like water melting from his icy eyes, and he looked back at Q. He shook his head, roughly, his body shaking.

“No, something’s wrong. Q, something’s happening.” His hands moved to his chest and his head when he said this, indicating it was either his heart or his brain that was malfunctioning physically.

Q nodded and pet Bond’s cheek.

“Yes.” He looked sternly into the larger man’s eyes with his own hazel eyes sparkling down at him. “You have PTSD, James. Something triggered you, and you’re having a panic attack.” He moved his hand to cover where Bond’s was clutching his chest and held his hand tightly, forgetting himself in order to help James. “I promise you. That’s all.”

Bond couldn’t blink away the certainty in Q’s eyes and he felt, for the first time since it happened, that their skin was touching. His pulse lowered and he could swallow and breathe a full breath for the first time in what felt like hours. The feeling of death began to fade from his stomach and he shook his head. 

 

“I don’t… I… what happened?”

Q smiled delicately and continued petting the older man’s cheek. 

“I’ve just told you what happened.”

Bond swallowed again and the sudden overwhelming sensations from earlier began to drip away with his fearful sweat.

“I’m sorry…” He breathed out, very quietly.

“What for?” Q said, furrowing his brows.

“I’ve got you all… damp.” He noticed that his arms were now wrapped around Q’s small frame and a small hint of blush was starting to creep into his cheeks. Before he could say anything else though, his body got rigid and the sensations came crashing back down on him in huge oscillating tremors. He audibly gasped and grabbed onto Q tightly, his thoughts had intentions beyond his recognition.

Q knew what was happening and got Bond to keep his eyes open.

“Hey! Hey. Whoa.” He held Bond firmly to his body and let his hands run through James’ hair, petting anywhere he thought might bring him back down to him. 

“I’ve got you.” He looked Bond in the eyes and said his name softly. “James.” At his name, James looked back into Q’s eyes, his eyes filled with terror, every tear shed seemed to scream something different to Q. Fear, pain, isolation, every horror under the sun, was there in his helpless arms. Q moved and sat them up, making sure their bodies stayed connected. 

He said his name again, firmer, keeping his gaze fixed on his. “James.”

James looked at him pleadingly, whether he knew he was pleading or not. Q pressed his hand firmly against James’ broad chest until he could feel his heartbeat. 

“Focus on my hand. Focus right here. I’m here. I know it might sound impossible but try to go over what you were doing before everything seemed to run away from you. Tell me what lead you here.”

Bond looked across Q’s face and some of the grogginess began to dissipate for good this time when he noticed that without any questions, Q was right. Everything he was saying reflected what he’d been earlier experiencing. That spoke to the logical, unfearful side of his mind. If Q was saying all of these things, without hearing them, maybe Q was right. He nodded and started shakingly going over his routine before bed.

“E-everything was normal. Dinner, bit of trash telly… had a drink... “ He paused there, for some reason feeling a slight guilt over his drinking habits when he was sitting there, so vulnerable, facing somebody so raw… and… pure. 

“I-I came in, and… and watched the city for a bit before getting into bed. I was just laying there, Q, I was just laying there!” Bond didn’t mean to nearly shout the last bit but his body was starting to feel frantic again and he wasn’t sure he could survive another wave of whatever the bloody hell this was.

Q frowned, but his eyes were smiling. It confused James and he raised his eyebrows and blinked.

“I know what happened.” He said, pressing his palm flat against Bond’s chest, letting him know he was still there.

Bond nodded for him to continue.

“You’re not used to the silence… are you, James? You’re always on a mission. Sleeping on the ground, in a car, in a hotel, and you almost always… have someone with you, right?”

Bond squinted. A hint of anger sparked up in his stomach and he didn’t know why. 

“I suppose you’re right, but what does that have to do with anything?” He snapped more than he expected and Q winced a bit. From just that slight facial expression, it made James regret not only what he had just done but everything he had ever done. He didn’t understand that sensation either but it had been a night of many unknown sensations and with Q’s hand against his heart, he started letting the sensations roll off of him instead of through him. 

Q sighed softly.

“What that has to do with it, is, you’re used to constantly being alert. Listening, observing, being on guard every second of your life. So, I think…” He pet Bond’s chest very lightly with the side of his thumb. “I think that when you laid down, you had to… well, you had to face yourself. Everything you hide, everything you run from. I think, whether you knew you were hiding, or running, your brain did.” When he said this he ran his fingers through James’ hair. “And without knowing it, when your body finally relaxed for once. Finally had nothing to do but be, you… well, you broke.”

James had been following along with Q’s words, silently nodding. He doubted it, he even hated it, but he couldn’t fight it. Not when the person who was saying it was, possibly literally, keeping him together. Before he knew what was happening he was openingly weeping against Q’s bony sternum. He shook so violently the bed moved and in between untranslatable slurrings he let out a pained scream, a needing, pure, desperate scream. The kind that’s almost as painful to hear as it is to release. He slammed his fist into the wall, every sound echoing in the empty apartment. He was a wet, sloppy mess and Q held him as tightly as he could and ran his hands up and down his back, cooing reassuring notions in soft whispers. James remained there, rigorously sobbing, for a good ten minutes before he finally withdrew his body a bit. Q looked over his face, and while keeping one hand firmly on him, reached for the tissues on his nightstand. They were a bit too far away but he managed to get them, pulling his shoulder a little bit in the process. He scrunched up his face and took a breath. He would take care of it later. He turned back around and handed the tissues to James. James wiped his still falling tears, his mouth, his nose, and feeling quite embarrassed now, tried to wipe the soaking wet chest of his Quartermaster. 

Q chuckled lightly and helped him. They dried each other off. It was an oddly intimate experience and they both noticed it wordlessly. The tissues were thrown away and James’ breathing was coming back to normal, spare the every other after-crying hiccup. They were sitting side by side now, both of their feet on the ground. James looked down at his hands and saw the bloody swollen knuckles of his right hand. He sighed. Q was watching his every movement and he stood up. James nearly mewled at the thought of him leaving but Q placed his hand on his shoulder and James’ panic-stricken eyes relaxed.

“Come along now.” The younger spoke and helped Bond to his feet by his shoulders. Bond wobbled a bit, unsure if his legs would work correctly yet. Once again, Q spoke what was on Bond’s mind and it unsettled him to his core, but at the same time, made him feel safer than he… well, than he could ever remember.

“Don’t worry James, you can do it. And if you fall, we fall together.” He smiled when he said this and James had something newer, something brighter fill what felt like the cavern in his abdomen. The blush returned, this time without a wave of panic. They made their way to James’ lavish, beautiful bathroom and Q gasped a bit, stopping for only a second before getting to the sink and the medical supplies. 

He sat James down on the corner of his (unbelievably giant) bathtub and cleaned up his knuckles. James didn’t wince or make a sound. He was used to pain far worse than this. Q finished bandaging him up and held the hurt hand softly, looking up into James’ eyes.

They both sighed softly. James swallowed roughly.

“Thank you.” 

Q smiled. He knew every monotone inflection Bond had to offer, and Bond knew his back just the same, well, nearly. He knew how sincere that thank you was and he nodded.

“Anytime, 007.”  
They both chuckled and James furrowed his brows and tilted his head a bit.

“Q?”

“Yes?”

“...Why did you get shirtless?”

Q chuckled. “The release of chemicals from human skin touching is one of the most powerful anti-anxiety relief methods we have naturally.” 

“Ah.” Bond nodded and stood up on his own, offering Q his hand. Q took it and stood up, relieved to see some of his agent coming back to the surface. 

James grabbed a blanket and walked Q into the living room. He sat them down on the couch and turned on the television. Q didn’t question anything he was doing, and happily sat next to the taller man. James silently tugged Q into the crook of his shoulder, obviously for “chemical reasons.” After about half an hour James muttered vulnerably. 

“Don’t… tell anyone.”

“The thought would never cross my mind.”

___________________________________________________________________

**Author's Note:**

> PS: This work was partly inspired by the song "Bloodstained Heart" by Darren Hayes. Here's the link to the lyric video if you're interested in hearing it. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5wUpghC2aXU&spfreload=10


End file.
